Bravo — no, bravissimo — to Elliott Turner for his excoriation of the sports governing bodies involved in disciplinary proceedings against Lance Armstrong (doping) and Chelsea soccer star John Terry (racial taunting of another player).

Turner’s withering discourse on The Classical gets to the heart of the problem of the “kangaroo courts” of sports. Bodies like the English Football Association and the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency, which are not bound by a high bar of legal proof, enjoy greater power against athletes, even those who have official charges against them dropped, as in the cases of Terry and Armstrong, or are otherwise exonerated.

Indeed, Turner argues, the worst part of this is the seeming inevitability that should the government fall short, sports entities will really bring down the hammer, heavier than a court of law ever could:

“Instead of creating a separate sphere of sport and law, this looks like a second bite at the apple. If the police mess up an investigation or a prosecutor blows a trial, then de facto double jeopardy awaits the accused athlete. He may not face a year in jail, but instead risks losing seven Tour de France titles, a lifetime of achievement, and his good name.”

This is a line of argument that, as I blogged about recently, rarely makes its way into the mainstream sports media. Especially sanctimonious is the cadre of American columnists who rail eternally against “cheating,” as if that were an offense worse than the suspension of due process for accused athletes.

Earlier this month a blog post on the Columbia Journalism Review website was devoted to how journalists covering the Armstrong case are better-versed in the scientific details of doping, and how they’re informing readers as a result.

Declan Fahy pointed out the difficulties faced by reporters as well as drug-testers in detecting banned substances. But he completely ignored the monopoly status agencies like USADA and WADA enjoy, and that are even becoming quasi-legal in the current climate of fanatical punishment, actual guilt or innocence be damned.

Fahy made only passing references to media discussions about the ethics of doping, and whether taking steroids should be banned at all. Then he plugged cyclist and former Armstrong confidant Tyler Hamilton’s new tell-all book, “The Secret Race,” as “a first-hand account of how systematic doping is conducted.”

Perhaps in a future post Fahy can examine the need for reporters to exhibit not just “scientific muscle” but also equal discernment of the extra-legal process that “convicts” athletes where courts of law do not. And what are the ethics of that?

Turner’s piece would serve as a very good example of some badly needed journalistic scrutiny of the anti-doping zealots. Because they’re getting more of a free ride than the “cheaters” ever did.

An eight-game suspension and $63,000 fine handed Liverpool star Luis Suarez for the racial abuse of another player this week had barely set in when similar allegations — criminal charges, in fact — were leveled against Chelsea’s John Terry, who also happens to be the captain of the England national team.

These are two critical players on two of the best teams in England, and having them sidelined due to lengthy bans during the height of the season could certainly be devastating to their aspirations in the league and in European competition.

For years there have been black players, primarily in Europe, complaining of racial abuse from other players. It prompted some visible anti-racism campaigns such as Kick It Out. But little has effectively addressed the problem.

Fans hurling banana peels at black players have gone largely unpunished. When he was playing in Belgium, American defender Oguchi Onyewu sued a fellow player he accused of racial abuse. Nothing came of it. Former French national team star Patrick Vieira was fined by UEFA in 2003 for complaining that the European governing body for soccer wasn’t doing enough.

And for all of its bluster about trying to “stamp out” racism, FIFA, soccer’s global governing body, isn’t offering much in the way of serious solutions. Indeed, FIFA boss Sepp Blatter last month rendered himself an even bigger mockery by suggesting that players involved in a racial fracas patch up their differences with a post-game handshake. Even David Beckham publicly objected.

Criminal charges may seem heavy-handed against Terry for something he said. But when the appropriate soccer authorities drop the ball, all that may generate proper attention is the threat of a big-name star having more to lose than a few games on the bench.